The Spawning Grounds Read Online Free PDF Page A

morning.” She paused. “You hear me?”
    The boy remembered hearing that name at the river. He was this boy now, Bran. He pressed a hand to the face reflected in the magic pool and saw this hand reflected there as well. Two hands meeting. He remembered, then. These people had found a way to capture a still pond and hang it on the wall. He pressed his nose to it and tried to see to the pool’s pebbled bottom.
    “Are you awake?” When the girl opened the door, he turned to her, but he could take in only pieces: a mouth, a long, slender nose, a tangle of reddish-brown curls, one hazel eye that appeared both green and golden in the early morning light. With effort, he pulled together the parts of her face and saw that she was strikingly handsome, though she carried herself with the uncertainty of a girl who didn’t yet know herself. He had heard her name called along the river shore. She was this boy’s sister, Hannah.
    “Bran, for Christ’s sake, put on some underwear.”
    He remembered few words of her language, but nodded.
    Then she took a step forward and she was in pieces again. “Are you stoned?” She sniffed the air around him. “Are you drunk?” Beside her, the bare, pale blue walls took shape, along with an unmade bed and clothes scattered across the floor. There was a bureau here he recognizedfrom an earlier journey to this place. At that time, the house had smelled of freshly cut pine. Now that smell was overpowered by the human scent of a young man coming of age.
    Behind Hannah, a shadow wavered and lingered, a woman spirit that followed her. He knew this woman. He knew her intimately. When she was alive, in this world, she had carried him within herself for a time. He knew her name. “Elaine,” he said, pointing at her.
    Hannah laughed, confused, afraid.
    “Elaine,” he said again, but Hannah couldn’t see her mother.
    She picked up an armful of clothes from the floor and threw them at him. “Get yourself dressed.”
    He caught the underwear and T-shirt, this body acting on instinct. Hardness was everywhere here—under his feet, in the walls of this building—so unlike the floors and walls of a
kekuli
, the winter home of his past forays into this world, a house built into the ground, with walls made of earth. Within this white man’s house, even the light above him was hard, captured within an upturned bowl fixed to the ceiling. He stared up at it, captivated.
    Hannah snapped her fingers. “Brandon! What’s the matter with you this morning?”
    He rubbed his eyes to show his fatigue, hoping this would calm her. And he was tired. He sank back down on the bed, back into that dark river. He hung there for a time, neither in this world nor his own, but in the waters between. Here he would rest and gain strength in the way his brothers’ and sisters’ children grew over the winter within theirstone nests before bursting up into the river water as fry come spring.
    “What’s going on?” Hannah asked.
    He turned away from the girl, from her chaotic form and gibberish, to the window. There he saw the soul of the boy Brandon banging against the glass, displaced, a refugee from his own body.

— 5 —
A Hummingbird’s Flight
    GINA LEFT THE door open as she entered the kitchen with a basketful of tomatoes, the last of the year. She lined them up, one by one, on the windowsill over the sink. Some were still green, but most were overripe. She would have to use them this week. So, a salad for lunch, cubes of tomatoes tossed over lettuce bathed in olive oil and balsamic vinegar, garlic and basil. Later, a tomato sauce over spaghetti for supper. She’d make fresh salsa and maybe use that as an excuse to invite a few friends over and fill the kitchen with the warmth and conversation she craved. The house had seemed so lonely lately. But what friends? She couldn’t think of anyone she really wanted to invite. Certainly none of Grant’s buddies from work, other cops. Or her own co-workers from family